Julia-“the Mansfield Theatricals would enliven the whole neighborhood exceedingly” (169). When approaching Mansfield Park, it is necessary to read it slowly and deliberately, or what we are left with is another story about passion, reservation, loss, and ultimately, security (or happiness depending on how you read the ending). Austen writes prose that is “easy.” Easy in the sense that there aren’t entire chapters dedicated to discussions of literature and drama, there aren’t arguments like those of Corinne and Oswald about their conflicting countries, or religious views, or passions. There isn’t a whole lot of subtext visible on the surface. The transition from Corinne to Mansfield was quite shocking and difficult for me. I found myself engulfing Mansfield without realizing it. It was much harder to skip over the underlying meaning of things in Corinne, or Italy, because de Stael writes a text that is meticulous and plentiful.
Is not Fanny plentiful in her own way? Yes, Fanny is an abyss, of quicksand perhaps. If we glide over her, we can enter and exit the novel with little to no consequences. However, if we linger on the page and really see who Fanny is, we as readers get sucked in. Slowly. Painfully. We want to yell at Fanny to stick up for herself, to speak her mind. It is Edmund who explains it best: “Here there are too many, whom you can hide behind” (56). Fanny is hiding in a way, and early in the novel we attempt to figure out why.
It is difficult to really understand what it means to be so dependent and forever indebted to an entire house of individuals. Fanny is brought into her uncle’s home to release some burden on Mrs. Price who had a gaggle of children and little money to provide for them. Patronage is the main source of Fanny’s consciousness, and because of it, she lacks the enthusiasm we saw in Corinne. Fanny is a very deliberate and wise character who “knows her role and place” in the hierarchy and seeks to almost survive undetected. This consciousness is key to her survival in a home with such judgmental characters as Julia or Mrs. Norris. We are exposed to the consequences and temperature of the home early on when Sir Thomas leaves on his excursion. The girls “were much to be pitied on the occasion; not for their sorrow, but for their want of it” and displayed signs of grief when he left even though they were more “relieved” than anything. “Fanny’s relief, and her consciousness of it, were quite equal to her cousins, but a more tender nature suggested that her feelings were ungrateful, and she really grieved because she couldn’t grieve” (61-62). Have you heard of anything more absurd? The Miss Bertrams judge Fanny for her lack of emotion, and call it “a shameful insensibility.” Yet, because Fanny cries after reflecting on the cruelty of Sir Thomas’ final words to her, “her cousins on seeing her with red eyes, set her down as a hypocrite” (62).
Fanny is consciously a tactful creature who is judged for whatever she does, and since her dependency is so great in the home, she doesn’t want to appear manipulative by befriending the source(s) of her patronage. I would go as far to say that Fanny is an improviser during much of her time in Mansfield. She was always on display, always analyzed. No wonder she enjoyed her solitude and books. Only then was she free to relax. When she was forced to interact with others, and others being everyone she was indebted to, she was very conscious of what she was saying and how it would be received, and had to think quickly to portray the “right” quality.
In this sense, Fanny is not our ideal heroine of the time period. She isn’t flashy or outwardly brave, she doesn’t seem to fight or conquer any of her demons. She lets people fight her battles. While this is one way to read Mansfield Park, isn’t Fanny just playing a role? Is she not also a performer? She is the sly possum that when you stumble upon it, “plays possum” barely moving, barely breathing, because it doesn’t have the ability or freedom to fight and/or run away. Fanny isn’t free like Julia and Maria or Mary Crawford. She is restrictive in order to survive. I believe this to be the reason Fanny feels so much for Edmund. He extended a kindness and never retracted it. When Fanny was refusing to at in the play, having a difficult time “obliging” her cousins, Edmund implores “It is not fair to urge her…Let her choose for herself as well as the rest of us” (167). Edmund brings this to Sir Thomas’ attention when explaining the play acting. “We have all been more or less to blame…every one of us, excepting Fanny. Fanny is the only one who has judged rightly throughout, who has been consistent” (204).
While I’ve only touched on the concept of enthusiasm, I feel it goes hand in hand with this sense of consciousness. Fanny is extremely consistent in her delivery and execution of her feelings, and therefore, not enthusiastic for the most part. We see passion and exultation around/about two individuals: William, her brother, and Edmund, “her love.” She feels secure in displaying her emotions about her “dear William” because he is one of the few people she isn’t dependent on and she has this enthusiasm that is freeing. Around Edmund she is still reserved but trusts him on a deeper level because of his own consistency. Fanny does begin to express herself when she realizes she’s losing Edmund to Miss Crawford, and when she receives two chains for William’s cross is a pinnacle moment for Fanny (and Edmund, but for a different reason). This kindness, mixed with guilt and love and gratefulness is all too much for Fanny. We see her crack from her reserved self: “Fanny, overpowered by a thousand feelings of pain and pleasure, could attempt to speak; but quickened by one sovereign wish she then called out, “Oh! Cousin, stop a moment, pray stop!” (271). There is a shift in her manner here. It is desperate feeling, impulsive, unconscious, much like, as described in the next paragraph “Almost unconsciously she had now undone the parcel he had just put into her hand, and seeing before her…a plain gold chain perfectly simple and neat, she could not help bursting forth again” (272).
There is more to be said on the connection, but I feel this scene with Fanny correlates nicely with Corinne in describing improvisation: “Sometimes the impassioned interest…that relates to the moral existence of man, his destiny, his end, his duties, and his affections…elevates me above my strength, makes me discover, in nature, my own heart, bold truths, expressions full of pith, that solitary reflection would not have given birth to. I then believe myself acted upon by a supernatural enthusiasm, and feel that what is speaking within me is greater than myself”
whole neighborhood exceedingly” (169).
When approaching Mansfield Park, it is necessary to read it slowly and deliberately, or what we are left with is another story about passion, reservation, loss, and ultimately, security (or happiness depending on how you read the ending). Austen writes prose that is “easy.” Easy in the sense that there aren’t entire chapters dedicated to discussions of literature and drama, there aren’t arguments like those of Corinne and Oswald about their conflicting countries, or religious views, or passions. There isn’t a whole lot of subtext visible on the surface. The transition from Corinne to Mansfield was quite shocking and difficult for me. I found myself engulfing Mansfield without realizing it. It was much harder to skip over the underlying meaning of things in Corinne, or Italy, because de Stael writes a text that is meticulous and plentiful.
Is not Fanny plentiful in her own way? Yes, Fanny is an abyss, of quicksand perhaps. If we glide over her, we can enter and exit the novel with little to no consequences. However, if we linger on the page and really see who Fanny is, we as readers get sucked in. Slowly. Painfully. We want to yell at Fanny to stick up for herself, to speak her mind. It is Edmund who explains it best: “Here there are too many, whom you can hide behind” (56). Fanny is hiding in a way, and early in the novel we attempt to figure out why.
It is difficult to really understand what it means to be so dependent and forever indebted to an entire house of individuals. Fanny is brought into her uncle’s home to release some burden on Mrs. Price who had a gaggle of children and little money to provide for them. Patronage is the main source of Fanny’s consciousness, and because of it, she lacks the enthusiasm we saw in Corinne. Fanny is a very deliberate and wise character who “knows her role and place” in the hierarchy and seeks to almost survive undetected. This consciousness is key to her survival in a home with such judgmental characters as Julia or Mrs. Norris. We are exposed to the consequences and temperature of the home early on when Sir Thomas leaves on his excursion. The girls “were much to be pitied on the occasion; not for their sorrow, but for their want of it” and displayed signs of grief when he left even though they were more “relieved” than anything. “Fanny’s relief, and her consciousness of it, were quite equal to her cousins, but a more tender nature suggested that her feelings were ungrateful, and she really grieved because she couldn’t grieve” (61-62). Have you heard of anything more absurd? The Miss Bertrams judge Fanny for her lack of emotion, and call it “a shameful insensibility.” Yet, because Fanny cries after reflecting on the cruelty of Sir Thomas’ final words to her, “her cousins on seeing her with red eyes, set her down as a hypocrite” (62).
Fanny is consciously a tactful creature who is judged for whatever she does, and since her dependency is so great in the home, she doesn’t want to appear manipulative by befriending the source(s) of her patronage. I would go as far to say that Fanny is an improviser during much of her time in Mansfield. She was always on display, always analyzed. No wonder she enjoyed her solitude and books. Only then was she free to relax. When she was forced to interact with others, and others being everyone she was indebted to, she was very conscious of what she was saying and how it would be received, and had to think quickly to portray the “right” quality.
In this sense, Fanny is not our ideal heroine of the time period. She isn’t flashy or outwardly brave, she doesn’t seem to fight or conquer any of her demons. She lets people fight her battles. While this is one way to read Mansfield Park, isn’t Fanny just playing a role? Is she not also a performer? She is the sly possum that when you stumble upon it, “plays possum” barely moving, barely breathing, because it doesn’t have the ability or freedom to fight and/or run away. Fanny isn’t free like Julia and Maria or Mary Crawford. She is restrictive in order to survive.
I believe this to be the reason Fanny feels so much for Edmund. He extended a kindness and never retracted it. When Fanny was refusing to at in the play, having a difficult time “obliging” her cousins, Edmund implores “It is not fair to urge her…Let her choose for herself as well as the rest of us” (167). Edmund brings this to Sir Thomas’ attention when explaining the play acting. “We have all been more or less to blame…every one of us, excepting Fanny. Fanny is the only one who has judged rightly throughout, who has been consistent” (204).
While I’ve only touched on the concept of enthusiasm, I feel it goes hand in hand with this sense of consciousness. Fanny is extremely consistent in her delivery and execution of her feelings, and therefore, not enthusiastic for the most part. We see passion and exultation around/about two individuals: William, her brother, and Edmund, “her love.” She feels secure in displaying her emotions about her “dear William” because he is one of the few people she isn’t dependent on and she has this enthusiasm that is freeing. Around Edmund she is still reserved but trusts him on a deeper level because of his own consistency. Fanny does begin to express herself when she realizes she’s losing Edmund to Miss Crawford, and when she receives two chains for William’s cross is a pinnacle moment for Fanny (and Edmund, but for a different reason). This kindness, mixed with guilt and love and gratefulness is all too much for Fanny. We see her crack from her reserved self: “Fanny, overpowered by a thousand feelings of pain and pleasure, could attempt to speak; but quickened by one sovereign wish she then called out, “Oh! Cousin, stop a moment, pray stop!” (271). There is a shift in her manner here. It is desperate feeling, impulsive, unconscious, much like, as described in the next paragraph “Almost unconsciously she had now undone the parcel he had just put into her hand, and seeing before her…a plain gold chain perfectly simple and neat, she could not help bursting forth again” (272).
There is more to be said on the connection, but I feel this scene with Fanny correlates nicely with Corinne in describing improvisation: “Sometimes the impassioned interest…that relates to the moral existence of man, his destiny, his end, his duties, and his affections…elevates me above my strength, makes me discover, in nature, my own heart, bold truths, expressions full of pith, that solitary reflection would not have given birth to. I then believe myself acted upon by a supernatural enthusiasm, and feel that what is speaking within me is greater than myself”